


Millions

by xlightless



Category: B.A.P
Genre: M/M, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 18:19:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14407809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlightless/pseuds/xlightless
Summary: When Youngjae meets Daehyun, they're swept up in a whirlwind of memories of a million other lives, but what’s the worth of a single life to a couple of immortal souls?





	Millions

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from my aff

“Y-You don’t need to do this.” 

“Well, I kinda do. Don’t take it personal, though. It’s just business.”

Youngjae pulls the trigger. Blood spurts out and lands on the toes of his boots. He wipes it on the carpet. “Gross.”

It’s not the best job in the world, but it pays the bills and puts food on the table, so Youngjae feels like he really has no right to complain. Though, he’ll admit that getting the blood stains out of his clothes is a real pain in the ass.

“You couldn’t have been a _little_ cleaner about this?” Jongup asks as he walks out of the bedroom. He nods to the opposite wall where a giant splatter of blood spreads out. 

Youngjae shrugs as he holsters his gun. “We aren’t the ones cleaning this shit up.”

Jongup hums in agreement. He steps over the body on the floor and holds up a small thumb drive. “I got some files he kept on the revolution.”

“Thanks.” Youngjae puts the thumb drive into his pocket. “Let’s go before someone finds us.”

“I heard gunshots in here!”

Jongup turns to Youngjae with a frown. “You couldn’t have been a little _quieter_ either?”

Youngjae shrugs as he throws open the balcony doors. “Jongup, I’m not _perfect_. Come on, we’re taking the skylines.”

“There’s a difference between being imperfect and being _sloppy_ ,” Jongup says. 

Youngjae shakes his head as he takes out his hookshot and aims at the skylines above his head. 

//

_Roaring airplanes. Cracked concrete sidewalks. People brushing past each other, just barely exchanging a glance. Hands intertwined, pulses syncing, thumbs brushing against knuckles, against pulsing veins._

_Youngjae stands outside the airport. Daehyun’s hands come up to grip Youngjae’s cheeks. Youngjae closes his eyes, reveling in the way Daehyun’s fingertips feel against his skin._

_“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Youngjae whispers into Daehyun’s ear as an airplane roars past. “I promise.”_

_Youngjae tries to smile. It feels more like a grimace on his face. He turns his head and presses a kiss into Daehyun’s palm. He pulls Youngjae into a hug. He needs to wrap his arms around Daehyun because he doesn’t know how long until he’ll be able to do this again._

_California is approximately 5,820 miles from South Korea._

_Youngjae will be approximately 5,820 miles away from Daehyun._

_“Be safe, okay?” Daehyun says._

_Youngjae hears the tremor in Daehyun’s voice, and nods into his shoulder. When they pull away, Daehyun’s eyes are puffy and red. Youngjae knows he probably looks the same._

_“I love you,” Daehyun whispers._

_“I love you, too,” Youngjae replies._

_Youngjae nods again, grabs his luggage, and turns around. A couple steps inside, he turns around to wave at Daehyun._

_When Youngjae turns back around, he’s swallowed by the tide of people._

Youngjae sits up in his bed, holding his head in his hands. He’s been having dreams of the same person. Everything is different, but Daehyun is the one constant in each one. The same glimmering eyes, the same wide smile, the same comforting voice.

Who the _hell_ is Daehyun?

Youngjae stands up and stretches his arms above his head. His android rolls up to him as the windows fade from opaque to the city below. 

“Good morning, Youngjae. The date is October 17. The time is now 7:32 AM.”

Youngjae hums, stepping over it to the bathroom. It follows him inside.

“Would you like me to read the news today?”

Youngjae stops at the sink and sneers at the dark bags circling underneath his eyes. “Sure.”

“Headline: LingoBerry launches new flavor with new language. Headline: Guernica historian found murdered in apartment early this morning.”

Youngjae tunes out headline after headline as he stands at the toilet, watching his piss gather in the bowl. He should talk to someone about the dreams. Would they call him insane? The worst they can probably do is give him some meds. 

“Headline: Commercial airline crashes into Pacific Ocean,” the bot says and Youngjae turns to look at it. 

“Can you read that one?” Youngjae asks as he pulls his pants up.

“A commercial airline flying to New York City was reported missing last night at 11:23 PM. The wreckage was found on an unspecified island in the Pacific. The airliner held approximately 200 passengers. None were reported found. Non-profit organizations such as Red Cross have reached out to aid the searches.”

An airline crashes into the ocean. Youngjae feels his head spin so violently that he has to hold onto the counter to stay upright. His eyes squeeze shut, but that only makes the nausea worse. He forces himself to take deep breaths. He needs to throw up, but there’s nothing. His elbows meet the smooth surface of the counter. He dry heaves into the sink as his mind reels with images of a crashing plane and water flooding his lungs. His eyes tear up. He gasps like he’s being submerged beneath water. He swears he can taste the salt on his tongue. 

“Youngjae? Are you okay?” the bot asks. “Should I call emergency services?”

“No… No, you don’t…need to,” Youngjae chokes out. His fingers tremble from gripping the edge of the sink so hard. He looks up, brushing his fringe out of his eyes and stares into the mirror. His entire face is red. His heart pounds in his chest. He’s still gasping for air.

What _was_ that?

“Are you sure?” the bot asks.

“ _Don’t_ call anyone,” Youngjae orders. It comes out louder than he intends it to. His throat rasps. He needs to figure out what that was. He’s never been in a plane crash before, but that felt too real to ignore. “I’m fine.”

Youngjae washes his face with cold water. It doesn’t do much, but at least he isn’t gasping for breath anymore. 

“You have a call from Muscle Cunt,” the bot announces. 

Youngjae fights the urge to groan. Jongup is the last person he wants to talk to right now, but it’s probably another job, so he sighs and grabs a towel from the rack behind him.

“Answer it.”

“Wow, you’re actually awake right now?” Jongup asks, sounding honestly impressed. “That was only, like, three rings.”

Youngjae mumbles out “couldn’t sleep” and walks out into his bedroom to find some clothes. His bot follows behind him as Jongup talks.

“Alright, anyway, I landed us a job. It’s pretty big.”

Youngjae slips into a shirt. “How big?”

“It’ll cover rent––“

Youngjae scoffs. That isn’t impressive.

“––for an apartment in New Seoul.”

Youngjae freezes. Now, _that’s_ impressive. That isn’t simple pocket change. What kind of person has a price that big hanging above their head? “When can you come over?”

“Already on my way,” Jongup replies.

“Right. See you then.” Youngjae expects the call to end, but it doesn’t. He leans down to press the end button on the screen, but Jongup says something.

“Wait… Have you looked at the files yet?”

Youngjae glances at the thumb drive sitting on the bedside table, untouched since last night. “Not yet. I probably will today.”

“Cool, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Yeah.” Youngjae ends the call. He stares at the thumb drive before picking it up. He inserts it into a slot in his bot.

“New device connected. Would you like to open GUERNICA?”

Youngjae almost dreads finding out what’s in the files. Guernica was a group of revolutionaries that killed the last Empress nearly a hundred years ago. They paved the way to a government vaguely resembling democracy.

Youngjae won’t admit it to Jongup, but he’s been having dreams about fighting with them. Some nights, he wakes up in a cold sweat, breathing hard and still feeling the sting of a heavy fist to the stomach. It’s easy to say that the other dreams are creations of a weird subconscious part of his imagination, but Guernica is in his history books. He couldn’t have dreamt something he read in his textbooks.

Youngjae wonders if he’s going crazy.

“Open it,” Youngjae says. “Display it on the living room wall.”

The bot rolls out into the living room and stops, the interactive hologram flickering on. Youngjae looks at the wall, his eyes widening as file after file opens. There are countless news articles, photographs, interviews, and even notes written by the military police officers. It’ll take weeks for Youngjae to sort through it all.

But what’s the point of all this? What is he trying to find? To prove?

Youngjae lifts his hands to sift through the files and skim through each one. He stops at a photograph buried beneath the notes, his hands frozen in the air. It’s him. It’s definitely him.

Youngjae sees himself surrounded by people with a laser gun in his hand. Daehyun stands beside him, his hand gripping Youngjae’s elbow.

“It can’t be,” Youngjae whispers. He’s seen the photographs in his history books and, sure, he saw the resemblance before, but he didn’t think he’d grow up to look like the guy. “I… How is this even possible?”

Youngjae brings up a profile of each member. It’s all the basic details: the soldier gone rogue, the nurse turned rebel, the orphan raised into revolution, the weapons specialist, the Empress’s former android. And then there stands Youngjae, the engineering student and catalyst for the revolution.

That can’t be him, and yet…

When Youngjae closes his eyes, he can feel the sweat rolling down his temple. He feels pure adrenaline pump through his veins. He feels the weight of a laser gun in his hand. He sees the revolution unfolding before him.

Youngjae opens his eyes and realizes that this is something he can and will never fully comprehend. This is something _so_ much bigger than him.

A knock on the door interrupts Youngjae’s thoughts. He turns off the hologram and rushes to the door. Jongup stands with his hands in his pockets, his face buried underneath a thick scarf. He pushes through the door, already unwrapping the scarf.

“So, about the job,” Youngjae says, closing the door.

“Two billion credits.” Jongup sits on Youngjae’s couch, his arms spread out on the cushions. “It’s the president’s son.”

Youngjae hums. Of course. Who else could carry a bounty that big? “Who gave us the job?”

“The opposing democratic party, who else? Elections are coming up, and Lee Jihyun wanted to send a message to the president.” Jongup turns to look at Youngjae. “Look, it’s a big job. I understand if you don’t wanna take it.”

Youngjae shakes his head and heads into the kitchen to make coffee. “It’s two billion credits. I’d be stupid to turn it down.”

“Good, because I already took the job. I got the files on my IRIS. I’ll upload them to your bot.”

Youngjae glances into the living room to see Jongup activating his IRIS, an implant he got in his left eye. It glows an iridescent green and spins as it works. Youngjae opens a cabinet to pull a couple mugs out.

“His name is Jung Daehyun.”

Youngjae nearly drops the mugs. A man appears, both strange and familiar at the same time, in his mind. 

_Youngjae_ , he says, holding his hand out. A million scenes flicker before Youngjae, but the man stays the same, ever constant.

Jung Daehyun. Why didn’t he see it before? 

Jongup turns on the bot’s projector. “He goes to New Seoul University. Works at some coffee shop down the street. Got his own squad of bodyguards. This will be harder than I thought.”

“Sounds like you don’t wanna do this job anymore.” Youngjae forces out a laugh. His fingers tighten around the mugs. 

“You know I like a good challenge,” Jongup replies with a wide grin. “We need to figure out prep, first of all.”

Youngjae pours the finished coffee into the mugs. When he walks back into the living room, Jongup has several photographs of Daehyun projected on the wall.

Youngjae sets the mugs on the coffee table and sits on the couch beside Jongup. “This is gonna be fun.”

The problem with assassinating the president’s son is that his squad of bodyguards never leaves his side. Jongup sits in one of Daehyun’s classes, and Youngjae buys a bagel during Daehyun’s shift at the coffee shop. They realize that the bodyguards are fucking everywhere. It doesn’t help that the bodyguards even follow him into the bathroom.

But Youngjae and Jongup aren’t the type of people to just give up at the first sign of a challenge, and two billion credits is enough motivation.

It takes two weeks to figure out some semblance of a plan. Their biggest challenge is getting Daehyun alone long enough to kill him, and then they realized they don’t need to. 

Youngjae sits on a bench in the university quad, waiting for Jongup’s signal. He sits on a nearby rooftop, sniper rifle ready.

“He’s coming your way,” Jongup’s voice says into Youngjae’s ear. “Get him into position.”

Youngjae closes the book in his lap and slings his backpack over his shoulders. He stands up and sees Daehyun talking to the guard on his left. Youngjae begins walking toward them.

“Excuse me,” Youngjae says and he notices the way the guards tense, but they don’t acknowledge him. He smiles as he pushes up the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “You’re in Professor Shin’s psych 221 class, right?”

It’s Daehyun’s biggest class with over two hundred students in the roster. He can’t possibly know every single person in it.

“Yeah, why?” Daehyun asks, tilting his head.

Youngjae is suddenly thrown into an underground bunker, terrified and unsure of his life. He sees Daehyun in front of him, angrier and the revolution burning in his eyes. He blinks, and it’s gone.

“I…” Youngjae takes a deep breath, glancing at the guards. Is he playing his part well enough? He begins walking and Daehyun follows him. They have to get into position. “I was just wondering if you wanted to join my study group––“

“Wait.” Daehyun grabs onto Youngjae’s arm, a strong grip in the crook of his elbow, and Youngjae fights the overwhelming sense of deja vu. “Do I…know you from somewhere?”

Youngjae turns to look at Daehyun, fear coursing through him. When their eyes meet, Youngjae can’t help the gasp that escapes his throat. He feels the urge to either pull Daehyun as close to him as he can or push him off the nearest cliff. Both are so strong that Youngjae finds himself paralyzed.

Youngjae forces a laugh. “I mean, we–– We’re in the same psych class.”

“Youngjae, what the _hell_ are you doing?” Jongup hisses. “Get him into position.”

One of the guards looks up at Jongup’s direction. She leans toward Daehyun’s ear, but Youngjae catches it. “Sir, we need to get you out of here.”

“No, hold on.” Daehyun stares at Youngjae, his eyes searching for an answer Youngjae isn’t even sure he has. “I...know you from somewhere else.”

Youngjae bites his bottom lip. He shakes his head. He can’t do this. He doesn’t know how he’s going to handle the guilt if he lets Jongup take the shot.

“Fine, fuck you, too.”

A gunshot cracks in Youngjae’s ear. Time slows down, a single moment stretching out into a million. He can almost hear the bullet whistling through the air. He shoves Daehyun aside. The guards swarm them. The bullet pierces Youngjae’s shoulder. He screams and falls to the ground.

Youngjae’s ears ring. Chaos swirls around him and he’s in the eye of the storm. Daehyun brings Youngjae’s head into his arms, his eyes wide and scared.

“Youngjae,” he whispers, both new and immediately comforting. “I’m _not_ letting you die again.”

//

_Youngjae grips the armrests of his seat. The plane shakes. The captain announces the plane’s crash-landing in about five minutes._

_Youngjae closes his eyes. A tear slips out and rolls down his cheek. There is so much he hasn’t done yet. His life is just beginning. He had everything planned out. He can’t just die without seeing any of it through. How is any of this fair?_

Youngjae opens his eyes to bright light and freckled ceiling panels. He blinks. A heart monitor beeps to his right, constant and annoying. He tries to sit up, but he stops, gasping as a sharp pain shoots through his entire left side.

“Ah, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Youngjae turns his head and sees a nurse standing at the foot of his bed. He has a tablet tucked beneath his arm. 

“The plane crash… How did I…?” Youngjae stops with a groan. His head throbs and spins.

The nurse raises an eyebrow. “Plane crash? You were shot in the shoulder trying to protect the president’s son.”

Youngjae closes his eyes. He’s confusing his dreams with reality. “Sorry… I–– Yeah.”

“How do you feel?” the nurse asks. “Any pain?”

Youngjae shakes his head. “Just a little, um, foggy. Can’t think straight.”

“Side effects of the morphine.” The nurse looks at the IV drip connected to Youngjae’s arm. He looks at the tablet before nodding. “Alright, I’ll let you rest for now. I’ll be back to check in soon.”

Youngjae hums. 

The nurse disappears behind the curtain to check on the other patients nearby. Youngjae closes his eyes and wonders how he let his life spiral so far out of control. What is he going to do now? There’s no way he’s working with Jongup anymore. He takes note of how much credit he has left in his account and whether it’ll be enough to keep him afloat until he finds another job, but the dull throbbing in his head isn’t much help.

“Can I come in? The nurse said you were awake.” 

Youngjae opens his eyes to see Daehyun sit on the chair beside his bed. He fiddles with his thumbs in his lap, and he stares at the ceiling. 

“Daehyun,” Youngjae whispers. 

“Thank you for saving me.”

Youngjae keeps his mouth shut because he can’t possibly say that he knew it was coming.

“This is going to sound stupid and you’ll probably deny it anyway, but I need to know.” Daehyun looks at Youngjae. “You have the flashbacks too, right?”

Youngjae locks eyes with Daehyun, and he’s swept up in a tidal wave of memories he can’t even begin to understand. It’s like he’s known Daehyun for thousands of years, but he knows they’ve never met. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Daehyun reaches forward to swipe the tears from his cheek.

“You do, don’t you?” Daehyun whispers. His hand is warm on Youngjae’s cheek. “Do they come in dreams?”

Youngjae nods. He’s right in front of the man he’s supposed to kill, and yet he’s overcome by emotions so strong he’s having trouble breathing. This isn’t love or hate. This is something that swells so much larger in his chest. It’s a hurricane that leaves a chaotic mess of memories in its wake. And yet, he finds himself in the eye, threatened to be swept up, but somehow Daehyun is there to hold him down.

But Youngjae doesn’t know how to say all that in words, so he breathes out, “How?”

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” Daehyun leans back into the chair, but Youngjae wants to keep him by his side.

“Why should I?” Youngjae asks.

Daehyun crosses his arms above his chest, his eyebrows furrowing. “Why else would we have memories of each other? Our souls are intertwined.”

Youngjae’s head pounds. He’s finally caught up in the hurricane, and he can’t be any more helpless. He closes his eyes. It’s too much.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped all this on you. I should go. Thank you again.” Daehyun stands up to leave, but Youngjae’s hand shoots out and latches onto Daehyun’s shirt. 

“Wait.” Youngjae tightens his grip around the fabric. He looks into Daehyun’s eyes, curious and expectant. “If we _are_ being reincarnated, how many lives have we lived?”

Daehyun takes Youngjae’s hand off his shirt and brings it into his own. He presses his lips, warm and a little chapped, against the bruises on Youngjae’s knuckles. When he speaks, his breath swirls in the spaces between their fingertips. “Millions.”

Youngjae is speechless. 

Daehyun squeezes Youngjae’s hand before letting go and straightening. He smiles and it feels like there’s a distance between them again, the president’s son and a criminal. “Well, I should probably go. My guards are probably looking for me. See you later.”

Youngjae still can’t say anything as Daehyun walks out. 

//

When Jongup visits Youngjae in the hospital, he’s surprised.

“Glad to see you’re still alive,” Jongup whispers. He sits low in the chair, his shoulders slumped, his arms crossed on his chest. 

“Are you really?” Youngjae asks. 

Jongup shrugs. “Nah.”

Youngjae hates how defenseless he is right now. “So, why are you here?”

“I’m here to tie up some loose ends,” Jongup replies. He pushes himself off the chair to stand above Youngjae. He activates a mask, the cells engulfing his face and changing his appearance entirely.

Everything is a blur after that. Jongup snatches the pillow from beneath Youngjae and smothers him with it. He tries to fight, but between the bullet hole in his shoulder and the morphine pumping into him, it’s a losing fight. The harder he kicks, the more his lungs struggle for air. 

“It’s a shame that bullet didn’t kill you.”

That’s the last thing Youngjae hears before his consciousness fades.

//

Being smothered to death by a pillow doesn’t really compare to dying in a plane crash or leading a revolution, but it’s dramatic in the way that smacking a fly is dramatic. 

Youngjae is reborn as a fly in his next life.

He lives a very long three days before meeting his doom between someone’s shoe and a hardwood floor. 

//

Sand blows relentless outside, blasting the temple walls. The wind howls, but whispers as it creeps inside like it knows how sacred the chamber is.

In the center stands a pedestal, figures etched into the sides, with a shimmering golden chalice on top, serene and undisturbed. A thick coat of sand and dust as fine as snow covers the entire chamber. A pillar of light filters in through a single hole on the ceiling, bathing the chalice.

Youngjae hides in the shadows of a niche. His face is covered by a bandana dirtied by the sandstorm. He lifts the goggles from his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"There it is," he sighs. He can feel the immense relief and awe in his mind. Countless weeks searching for it, and now it's right within his grasp. The Empress’ royal chalice.

Youngjae takes a single step out of the shadows towards the light, but stops as the barrel of a gun presses against the back of his head.

“You’re trespassing on holy grounds. Take one more step and I won't hesitate to paint the walls with your blood, thief," a voice says, hostile and hot against Youngjae’s ear.

He makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. The gun twitches against the roots of his hair. "What a shame you'd defile such a sacred place with something as filthy as _my_ blood."

Before the man replies, Youngjae knocks the gun out of the man’s hand. It clatters to the ground and spins away. He darts towards it. A cloud of dust kicks up. Youngjae pulls his goggles over his eyes. 

_Shit shit shit_ , he thinks as he dives for the gun.

“In the name of the Empress, you’re under arrest!” the man shouts.

“I’d like to see her try!” Youngjae grabs the gun. He searches for the pedestal. He just needs to get out with that chalice. 

Youngjae gasps as a sharp pain blooms in the middle of his back. When the dust settles, he sees a sword jutting out of his stomach. The man yanks it out. Youngjae drops to his knees, his eyes wide, gripping his middle. The man circles around him. He looks up. 

When they lock eyes, Youngjae gasps. “Daehyun…” 

Daehyun snarls. He presses the tip of his sword against Youngjae’s neck. “How the hell do you know my name?”

Youngjae smiles. He’s losing so much blood. He’s lost so much already. “I’d know those eyes anywhere. I’ll see you later.”

//

Youngjae stands at a cliff’s edge, his body warm and bathed in the light from the setting sun. The waves crash against the rocks far below him. He hears footsteps come up behind him and he smiles. “Are you afraid of death, Daehyun?”

“Depends on which one you’re referring to,” Daehyun replies. His arms wrap around Youngjae’s waist. 

Youngjae turns around in Daehyun’s arms and presses a kiss to his nose. “It’s good to see you again. I missed you.”

Daehyun runs his hands along Youngjae’s lower back. “Sorry for stabbing you.”

Youngjae laughs, stretching his neck up and he feels Daehyun press his lips against his skin. “Sorry for almost assassinating you.”

Daehyun hums, a deep sound that vibrates through Youngjae’s body. “Is that when I was the president’s son?”

“Yeah.”

“Guess that makes us even.”

Youngjae takes Daehyun’s hand and presses a light kiss against his knuckles. “I guess it does.”

Distant shouts and frantic footsteps carry in the wind.

“They’re here,” Daehyun whispers. His arm tightens around Youngjae’s waist.

“I saw them head this way!”

Youngjae leans close to Daehyun, his lips brushing Daehyun’s ear. “Are you ready?”

Daehyun shakes his head. Youngjae closes his eyes and he can feel Daehyun’s heartbeat pounding against his own chest. 

“There they are! In the name of the Empress, you’re under arrest!” Several soldiers emerge from the underbrush. Youngjae sees the laser guns in their hands.

“You said that just before you stabbed me,” Youngjae whispers. He pulls away from Daehyun.

“The past is supposed to stay _behind_ us, Jae.”

Youngjae laughs. "Just like the sword you put through my back?"

Youngjae takes Daehyun’s hand, his warm fingers wrapping tight around his wrist, and falls back, pulling Daehyun down with him.

“See you in the next life.”

Their lips meet before they hit the water.

//

“For our last book, we’ll be reading and analyzing the work of Jay’s novel _Millions_. For your final paper, you’ll be writing a three page analysis, but I’ll go over the details next week.”

Youngjae stares at the cover of the book. It’s a semi-autobiographical novel. It’s old, at least a couple hundred years old, but somehow he knows he wrote it. He knows every single detail about it without even having to open it.

Daehyun leans toward Youngjae to whisper, “This one looks a little lame.”

Youngjae feels like he should be offended, but he smiles. “Yeah.”

“Youngjae, since you seem to be discussing the book already, why don’t you share the answer with the class?” the teacher asks. Youngjae shoots a quick glare Daehyun’s way, who grins. “How many lives does Jay claim to have lived in his book?”

The answer is already out of Youngjae’s mouth before he can even think about it. “Over two million, but it’s a rough estimate because he isn’t sure if he remembers them all.”

The teacher stares at Youngjae, the surprise obvious on her face, but then she smiles. “Good. Have you read the book already?”

What else is he supposed to say? He flaps his mouth for a bit, the words refusing to come to him. “I, um, read it a couple years ago.”

The teacher moves on, but Youngjae is stuck staring at the book, his thumb brushing the raised letters of Jay’s name. He feels Daehyun elbow his side.

“Teacher’s pet,” he mutters, followed by a snicker. 

“Perks of being the class president.”

//

Youngjae is stuck writing his final essay on _Millions_. Daehyun isn’t helping because he’s too busy rambling on about a new video game or _something_. Youngjae stopped listening because he needs to work on strengthening his analysis and he’s just typing straight bullshit at this point and he feels like he’s about to explode from––

“Daehyun, will you _please_ shut up for once?!” Youngjae exclaims.

Daehyun stares at Youngjae, shocked and maybe even a little scared, and Youngjae’s hands fly to his mouth. “Jae––“

“I’m _so_ sorry. I didn’t mean to yell… It’s just the stress and the essay and college apps––“ Youngjae stops when Daehyun removes his hands from his mouth.

“Make me,” Daehyun whispers so low, Youngjae feels it in his core. 

Youngjae leans forward, his lips just brushing against Daehyun’s. “Was that a challenge?”

“Depends.” Daehyun begins to lean back, his hands beginning to let go of Youngjae’s wrists.

Youngjae doesn’t think twice. He rushes forward, catching Daehyun’s lips in his. It feels like a fairytale climax where True Love’s Kiss breaks the Evil Curse as the memories flood his mind. He pulls away from Daehyun to finish his essay. That was _exactly_ what he needed.

“Hey, wait, I seriously thought we were gonna, like, go down on each other for a second,” Daehyun says. He burrows his face in the crook of Youngjae’s shoulder with a groan.

Youngjae snorts, shrugging Daehyun off him. “We have a thousand more lives ahead of us.”

“How about we focus on _this_ one for now?” Daehyun says. He presses a kiss to Youngjae’s earlobe. “You know, I was wondering when you’d come around.”

Youngjae stops typing to stare at Daehyun. “And how long have you known?”

Daehyun hums. “Since second year.”

Youngjae punches Daehyun’s shoulder. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“How was I supposed to tell you without sounding like a maniac?” Daehyun rubs his shoulder.

Youngjae glares at Daehyun before going back to his essay. “We’ll finish what we started once I write my conclusion.”

“At the rate you’re going, I’ll have died and come back another fifty times,” Daehyun says.

“Fight me.”

Daehyun presses a kiss against Youngjae’s temple and turns his attention back to his own laptop.

Youngjae turns in his essay and gets an A+ on it for _insightful analysis and unique perspective_. 

//

“Do you think after living so many times, we’ve lost the meaning of it?”

Youngjae looks up from his notebook with a frown. “I know you’re a philosophy professor, but do you _have_ to drag me into your existential crises? I have a year of lessons to plan out, and I don’t have time for your philosophical epiphanies. Or _whatever_ the hell they are.”

“I thought we were in this together,” Daehyun says with a pout.

“Sure, but does that mean I’m going to question the meaning of my life––“

“Lives,” Daehyun corrects with a smug grin.

Youngjae rolls his eyes. “Am I going to question the meaning of my _lives_ with you?”

Daehyun looks hopeful for a moment. “Ye––“

“No.” Youngjae frowns at Daehyun’s groan. He may be thirty now, but he’s so old already, and he’s done trying to figure out the exact reason they keep being reborn. He’s lived for so long and so many times, he feels like everything just repeats itself. Nothing is new, there is nothing to be learned at this point.

Youngjae is tired.

“According to scientific law, you can’t make something out of nothing. So…” Daehyun pauses, taking Youngjae’s hand into his. “Maybe we keep coming back because our souls have nowhere else to go, and our lives, these memories we keep collecting? They’re just… It’s all…”

“Recycled material,” Youngjae finishes. “For lack of a better term.”

Daehyun snaps his fingers and grins. “Yes!”

“So, we’re just… _stuck_ here until the Earth dies out, then? We’re gonna outlive our own planet?” Youngjae asks. He closes his notebook and leans back in his chair, groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Daehyun takes Youngjae’s hands into his. He yanks his arms away. He stands up and looks down at Daehyun. 

“I’m _tired_ , Daehyun! I don’t want to do this anymore! I _can’t_ do this anymore! Do you know how many people I’ve killed? Every time I remember these lives, I have to live with the fact I have other people’s blood on my hands! They had only one life, but us?! We come back and live a hundred more times, and for _what_?!” Youngjae paces the floor, his hands running through his hair. “And the _dreams_?! Do you know how how many times I’ve confused my other lives with this one?! I… I…”

Youngjae falls to his knees, his hands covering his mouth. He curls in on himself. Daehyun’s hands rest on his shoulders. He looks up and into Daehyun’s worried eyes.

“What’s the point of living if it’s like _this_ , Dae?” Youngjae whispers. His voice scratches against the inside of his throat, like it’s fighting its way out. 

Daehyun’s grip tightens and he pulls Youngjae into his arms. “Youngjae…”

Youngjae wants to push Daehyun away, but he only pulls him closer. “I can’t even _die_ if I’m just going to come back.”

Youngjae just wants to end it all.

//

Youngjae sits on the fire escape outside his friend’s New Year’s eve party. He can hear faint music and laughter through the walls and open windows. He isn’t sure why he agreed to come. He thought it would be fun, but he barely knows these people. This party only made him realize just how isolated he is from people.

Youngjae almost laughs because he remembers being such an outgoing guy in his earlier lives, but now he’s just so jaded and cynical of everything. He’s become the old man he feared in his youth, and he’s only twenty-two. Give or take a couple lifetimes.

“Youngjae?” Daehyun sits down beside Youngjae, wrapping his cardigan tighter around himself. He smells like vanilla and peppermint. “What are you doing out here?”

Youngjae looks at Daehyun, feeling suddenly vulnerable. He knows Daehyun doesn’t remember everything yet, but he wants Daehyun to. He just doesn’t want to be alone anymore, but he knows he can’t force Daehyun to remember because of one selfish reason. He can’t give him that burden right now, not when he’s so naive and ignorant.

“Just having a breather,” Youngjae replies.

Daehyun nods. He looks up at the moon, his eyes glimmering in the light filtering from inside. His face is softer now, hard edges blurred by the creeping shadows behind him.

Youngjae realizes in this moment just how much he loves Daehyun. He is distrust and cynicism where Daehyun is reckless tenacity and bright light in a tunnel of uncertainty. No matter what they look like or what they are in each life, they will always find each other. What are they in a world that moves on after its own death and rebirth? Why are they the only constants in a world of endless change?

Youngjae takes a deep breath because it’s New Year’s Eve and he has a whole year ahead of him to have an existential crisis. He removes his jacket and drapes it around Daehyun’s shoulders. He turns to look at Youngjae, his eyes questioning. He smiles at him because even if he never remembers in this life, he just wants to stay by Daehyun’s side.

People begin counting down inside, their shouts joyous and borderline delirious. Youngjae and Daehyun look through a window to see everybody crowding around the TV in the living room, waiting for the ball to drop in Times Square.

The seconds tick closer to midnight, but each one stretches into a million more. Youngjae looks at Daehyun.

_Ten._

He blinks, tilting his head.

_Nine._

Youngjae takes Daehyun’s hand into his, Daehyun’s fingertips cold tendrils in his palm.

_Eight._

Youngjae shivers, but Daehyun is a solid line of warmth pressed against his side.

_Seven._

“Daehyun, I know this is…”

_Six._

Daehyun squeezes Youngjae’s hand.

_Five._

His heart skips a beat.

_Four._

There are stars and infinite galaxies swirling in Daehyun’s eyes, and for a second it looks like he knows.

_Three._

“I love you.”

_Two._

Daehyun leans towards Youngjae, his hands coming up to Youngjae’s face.

_One._

Their kiss is a tipsy collision of lips and teeth, but it’s like the millions of other firsts they’ve had before this.

_Zero._

Daehyun leans back as the party inside erupts into cheers. Firecrackers explode behind them, igniting the sky in bursts of color. Youngjae looks into Daehyun’s eyes, unable to speak as his face glows with neon excitement.

“I remember,” Daehyun whispers, but he sounds uncertain. His hands go to grip Youngjae’s. When he speaks again, his voice is louder and more confident. He looks into Youngjae’s eyes with a smile. “I remember, Youngjae. I remember _you_.”

Youngjae returns Daehyun’s smile as another batch of fireworks explodes behind him. “Happy new year, Daehyun.”

// 

There’s a life where Daehyun doesn’t come back.

Youngjae searches every corner of the world, but he only comes back to an empty apartment. He’s envious of Daehyun at first. He resents Daehyun’s soul for a while. Why does he get to rest when Youngjae is left all alone? The world is suddenly far too vast for him to handle. 

But this is the life where Youngjae learns to live with just himself, defined not by how many lives he’s lived chasing after Daehyun, but as a singular immortal soul. Youngjae writes about each life, each memory, each person he’s met, and publishes it as a semi-autobiographical novel. He spends a couple weeks trying to figure out a title for it, and decides on _Millions_. It’s short and sweet, his editor says.

Youngjae falls in love with his best friend, his enemy, his roommate, his partner, his other half, but maybe this is the first life where he falls in love with himself.

//

Youngjae opens his eyes to a diner with warm lighting and faded upholstery seats. Daehyun sits in front of him, bright menu in hand, but he’s looking at Youngjae. 

“Aren’t you afraid this might be our last life together? What if we don’t see each other again? What if we don’t come back?” Daehyun asks. His eyes are wide with curiosity, but Youngjae can see the fear beneath it all.

Youngjae briefly wonders how he’ll remember this life in the next ones as he flips through the menu. “Can’t say it hasn’t crossed my mind, but it isn’t something we can control.”

Daehyun glances down at the menu. “Like destiny, right?”

Youngjae smiles. “Sure.”

Daehyun looks back up at Youngjae, the curiosity gone only to be replaced with steely determination. “But seriously, though. Don’t you feel like we won’t see each other again after this? Like a gut feeling?”

Youngjae’s gut is telling him to get some food, but he won’t deny the weakening link between him and Daehyun with each life. It feels like a thread that’s been stretched too tight for too long, and it’s beginning to tear. “You have a point.”

Daehyun leans across the table with a smile on his face. “Let’s get married.”

Youngjae smiles at the menu. This isn’t the first life where they marry each other, but maybe he’ll remember this as the one where they’re finally, truly happy.

//

Youngjae doesn’t think he’d see Jongup again after the whole _suffocated with a pillow_ incident, but there he is, stack of papers in his arms and a smile on his face. He drops off some papers on Youngjae’s desk with a curt “Hello.” Youngjae grabs onto his arm before he can walk away.

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” Youngjae hisses. He tugs Jongup down into his cubicle. 

“I’m… I’m the new intern,” Jongup replies with an uneasy laugh. For a moment, Youngjae begins to wonder if this is really Jongup, or if he’s remembering something wrong, but then something mischievous glints in Jongup’s eyes, and every doubt is gone.

Youngjae frowns, squeezing on Jongup’s arm. “You _know_ what I’m talking about.”

“Meet me in the conference room,” Jongup whispers in Youngjae’s ear so low he has to push back. His chair hits the file cabinets behind him with a loud _clang_.

Jongup grins as he straightens himself and walks away. 

Youngjae stares at Jongup’s back as he delivers packets of papers to each cubicle. For once, he finds himself speechless. He pushes out of his chair and heads into the conference room. He paces the length of it, his arms crossed, until Jongup walks in a couple minutes later.

“Glad to see you’re still alive,” Jongup says, closing the door behind him.

Youngjae narrows his eyes. “Are you really?”

“Nah.” Jongup shrugs.

Youngjae crosses the room and jabs a finger at Jongup’s chest. “So, _why_ are you here?”

Jongup grins, brushing Youngjae’s hand away. “I’m here to tie up some loose ends.”

“What?” Youngjae asks. “ _What_ loose ends?”

Jongup takes a step back and sits on the table, his hands propped up behind him. “Have you ever asked yourself why you keep being reborn, Youngjae? Sorry, I meant, you and _Daehyun_ , more specifically.”

“Of course.”

“Souls are meant to be consumed. Where else would they go once there isn’t a physical body to house it?” Jongup asks. 

Youngjae shakes his head. “You’re not making any sense. What do you _mean_ by consumed?” 

Jongup smiles and it looks condescending, the way he stares at Youngjae, how he snorts like he’s about to say something Youngjae _should_ know. “You’ve lost your purpose, haven’t you? That’s okay. That’s why I’m here. You’ll remember in a second, hold on.”

Jongup grabs hold of Youngjae’s chin, his movements so swift, Youngjae didn’t even catch him. When he presses his lips to Youngjae’s forehead, he gasps as he begins to realize. He isn’t human. He never _was_ human. He remembers his first life on Earth, his first encounter with Daehyun, his first––

He died in a plane crash in his first life, before he had a chance to decide what to do with Daehyun’s soul.

“We attach ourselves to our chosen soul until they’re ripe, but you?” Jongup laughs as he sits on the table again. “ _You_ fell in love. I mean, I didn’t think that was possible, but here you are, on the brink of death, reliving the same boring lives because you can’t bring yourself to eat your _dinner_.”

Youngjae stares at Jongup. He realizes how defenseless he is right now. 

“You’re starving yourself to death, Youngjae. You’ll die with him if you don’t do something about it,” Jongup says. He looks into Youngjae’s eyes, but he finds something he didn’t expect to. He stands up, not breaking eye contact with Youngjae. “But you…want that, don’t you?”

Youngjae stays silent because if he really thinks about it, he really doesn’t mind that.

Jongup blinks. He takes a step back with a snort. “I mean, _fine_. You know what, go spend the rest of your dying days with the one thing that’ll save you. I don’t know why I bothered to help you in the first place.”

Youngjae grabs onto Jongup’s shoulder, spinning him around before he can walk out. “ _Why_ did you decide to help me in the first place?”

Jongup stares at his feet, and for the first time, he looks unsure of himself. “I’m…atoning.”

“Because you killed me with a pillow, right? Is that it?” Youngjae asks with a raised eyebrow.

Jongup shrugs, and he suddenly looks so much younger than Youngjae, like the scared twenty-something Youngjae found all those lives ago. “Yeah, but it doesn’t really count if you’re not gonna accept it.”

“Thank you for telling me this.” Youngjae squeezes Jongup’s shoulder and heads to the door.

“What are you going to do?” Jongup asks.

“Not eat him, for one thing.”

Jongup sighs. Youngjae rushes to his cubicle and packs his things. He’s died millions of times by Daehyun’s side, but there’s something more final about this life that gives him a sense of urgency. He gets into his car and drives to their shared apartment. He can’t get there fast enough.

Somehow, Youngjae makes it to the front door of their apartment. He fumbles with his keys and it refuses to get into the lock. He almost throws the keys to the ground when the door opens. Daehyun stands in front of him, head tilted and an eyebrow raised.

“Jae? You’re back early. Did something happen at work?” Daehyun asks.

Youngjae stands on the welcome mat, staring at Daehyun, and he can’t help but feel awed. He feels the weight of his years bear down on him, but Daehyun shoulders it like it’s nothing. This is the man he spent innumerable lives with, the man he fought with, the man he grew up with, the man he loved. 

Youngjae drops his briefcase to the ground and pulls Daehyun into his arms. He hears Daehyun’s breath hitch. He buries his face into Daehyun’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of Daehyun’s shirt. He breathes in, inhaling the scent of pine mixed with Daehyun’s musk. He feels the steady beat of Daehyun’s heart spread to every corner of his body, drowning him until all that’s left is _them_.

In this life, Youngjae realizes that maybe they’ll come back a million more times, or maybe this is the last life they’ll lead together before fading into some vast emptiness, but he realizes that he’d be okay as long as he has Daehyun by his side. He’s tired, and he thinks he deserves a goddamn rest.

“Youngjae?”

When Youngjae pulls away, he looks into Daehyun’s eyes and millions of memories flash between them.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm going to slowly be moving my old aff fics on here so they'll all be in one place sorry if that's annoying if you've read/seen this before but i like organization thank you
> 
> come yell at me on my [tumblr](http://www.guernica-flow.tumblr.com)


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